


Frost, Interrupted

by orphan_account



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Depression, Eating Disorder, Emotional Manipulation, Gradual Blackice, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mental Disorder, Mental Illness, Night Terrors, Psychology, Schizophrenia, Self Harm, Slow Build, Smoking, Suicide Attempt, psych ward au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-23 22:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson Overland Frost had everything going for him, until it didn't. Until his thoughts darkened and his self-worth seemed to lessen. Until he made the decision that he didn't want to grasp for the pale threads that might lead him to a bland, boring future anymore. Until he tried to take his own life.</p><p>When he was admitted to the psychiatric hospital, he thought he'd never be 'fixed'. He thought it would be even worse than what his life had been up until that point. But a chance meeting with one of the patients seems to ignite a spark in him again, and he's suddenly determined to find out just what is going on with patient Pitch Black.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Admittance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this took a while; I wrote half of the first chapter a while ago, and it was left lying on the harddrive for a while until I was kick-started into writing this again just recently. It is obviously inspired by Girl, Interrupted, and that is fueled by my love for Psych Ward AUs, especially if they involve my OTP.
> 
> Rating may or may not go up as chapters carry on, and I may add more tags if anything more note worthy pops up. There's a lot of trigger warning on this fic, so please proceed with caution if anything in the tags bother you.

All he had wanted was for it to end.

So what if his family would get upset, it wasn’t as if they paid much attention to him before. His sister did, mostly. But his mother was always so busy and had no time for her kids, apparently. Too busy to notice anything. Hell, he’d been lying in the bathtub for almost an hour before she actually went to see why he was taking so long. Too bad it _didn't_ take so long. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with this shit.

Of course, his mother had flipped. Most would, finding their son lying in a filled bathtub, water stained by the blood that leaked out from his open wrists. He wouldn’t have cared that much, if his sister hadn’t been there to see the whole bravado. He felt bad for her. But surely she’d understand. At least he hoped she would. He didn’t want her blaming herself, or hating him for what he did. He’d half told her about how he felt. Half, at least, because he didn’t want her to know what it was really like. He’d just mentioned that he felt a bit lonely and left out, abandoned on the dull islands while everyone else was out at sea having fun. She had clasped his hands and given him such a sad look that it made his heart twist and ache all over.

He didn’t tell anyone else after that.

But now, he would be forced to talk. Or at least they would try to force him. He hated being forced to do things. He hated taking orders from others and being directed because they thought it would be the best for him. Well, too bad, because 'the best for him' so far had only ended up in his suicide attempt. And now the assholes would pull that shit all over again. Apparently talking about it was supposed to make him feel better, that he’d realize something about himself and his life that would miraculously make him pull a 180 and shout out 'Yippey-yay!' and dance like the happiest motherfucker on earth.

_Bullshit._

After they’d fixed him up at the hospital, much to his own displeasure, his mother had signed him into a psychiatric hospital. He was still a minor, unfortunately, so he didn’t have the authority to refuse. It was the dumbest shit he’s ever heard. He’d turn 18 in just a couple of months. It was to help him, they said. Psychological ward was just a fancier word for mental asylum.

'Mr. Frost, are you listening to me?'

Jack looked over at the doctor, who was giving him a stern look. He smiled at him and shrugged innocently, obviously mocking him. Staring out windows seemed to be frowned upon in this cesspool.

'Of course, doctor,' he replied in a smooth voice. The doctor pursed his lips in annoyance. Jack was being a brat just to make it more difficult for them. He was determined to be labeled a hopeless case as soon as possible so that they would just give up and send him back home.

'Then what did I just say?' the doctor asked with the slightest hint of smugness, pleased at having caught the boy spacing out.

'That this is meant to be a safe place where I can rest and recover,' Jack replied, his sense of victory obvious in his tone. 'Here I am allowed to be myself and I shouldn’t be afraid to talk to anyone. I will be sharing rooms with some guy called Jamie Bennett and he'll show me around.'

The doctor’s face turned into an amusing red colour and the grip around his pen tightened. He was probably too angry to speak without blurting out profanities.

Jack’s smile broadened and he stood up from his seat.

'I’ll keep it in mind, doctor,' he said sweetly as he turned and headed for the door. The man was most likely glad to be rid of his uncooperative patient, because he made no effort to stop him walking out. Asshole. Jack made sure to slam the door on his way out.

 

The hallway was fairly empty, save for a few patients idly wandering about. Some of them were so out there that he thought it’d be better to lock them up altogether. Perhaps him, as well. He wasn’t sure if he’d kill himself or everyone else if he got his hands on anything sharp. The whole place smelled stale. It was revolting in its bland emptiness, but at least it was better than the sickening smell of alcohol that filled the wards back at the ER. The walls were just as white and cold, though. It made it seem even more like a prison.

Jack shoved his hands down the front pockets of his hoodie, looking around with an unwelcoming face. If he was going to be stuck there for God knows how long, he was going to make it just as pissy for everyone else as it was for him. He was supposed to wait for the nurse there, but he decided 'fuck that' and went off. He started down the corridor, heading in whichever direction that seemed appropriate. It didn’t actually matter, so he just picked one randomly. There was no point in doing anything, really. It was just around 12 PM and there was literally nothing to do, besides eating. He didn’t even feel hungry, but he guessed that he’d get even more unwanted attention if he skipped lunch so he’d have to go there, eventually. Hopefully the mess hall would be emptier if he waited a while. He didn’t want any company. He didn’t deserve any company. And people certainly didn’t want his company.

He felt like a worthless bug that crawled on the surface of the Earth in a pathetic attempt to live. Shit, he didn’t even do that; he just simply existed by this point. No one was interested in an empty shell, other than the sort of people that loved to shove themselves into a person just for the sake of entertaining company, and having their own personal servant, and not companionship. He’d dealt with those before, and he they were the people he was glad to have left behind, when this all started.

He frowned, hearing the echos of advice he didn't want about pushing away negative thoughts. It made him even more angry that it made sense, and was best for him. But he didn't want what was best for him. What was best for him was the worst for everyone else, it seemed, since he was strictly forbidden from doing that. He heaved a massive sigh and swiveled around on his heel, changing into the opposite direction. He supposed he should head to the mess hall, then, and just get lunch over with so he could retreat to his room without bringing suspicions to him. Besides, he was curious about his roommate.

Only after some walking did he realize that he actually had no idea where the mess hall was, and his mindless wandering would only get him that far. Mathematically there was a 50% chance that this direction would lead towards it, since it was either that way or the other from here. He winced at himself, gritting his teeth as his brow furrowed. He didn't want to think about math. School depressed him even more. As he chewed his lip, trying to force away the images of that retched building that looked more like a prison than a place for education, he stepped out into a larger lobby area, with a few patients loitering about. It seemed to be some sort of communal room; there was a TV against one wall with a few sofas placed in a circle around it. There were small tables with three chairs each and a bunch of mahogany bookcases gathered in one corner. It most certainly was a communal room. He guessed he'd probably spend most of his free time here and, if not that, his room. Hopefully his roommate wasn't an asshole.

Jack groaned inwardly as he turned around, again, and headed the direction from where he'd come from. Obviously, he wouldn't achieve anything by just lingering like an awkward ghost by the end of the hall, and he was honestly getting hungry now. Either way, all he wanted to do was to get to his room and sleep the rest of the day off. But thinking about it he realized that he probably wouldn't even get to do that, seeing as his roommate would probably show him around.

At least he was allowed to wear regular clothes here, unlike in the hospital. He felt less trapped, that way. Not as exposed to the world. And they would eventually adopt his scent, rather than the stench of sterilized cleaner that they reeked of at the moment. The hospital gowns didn’t do that. He was just about to walk away when a short, curvy woman approached him.

She was wearing a nurse’s outfit, which she did a good job of filling out. She wasn’t by any means overweight; in fact the curves she sported gave you a sense of motherhood and safety. And her breasts were large enough to easily be mistaken for just being pillows strapped to her chest. Her face was round and gentle, a small button nose perking up in the middle of her face in between pudgy cheeks, and her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her fringe had streaks of purple, yellow and green. It was impossible not to like her, just from the warmth and comfort she radiated. 

'There you are, Jack!' she chirped brightly, her voice humorously squeaky. Jack winced only a little. Even if she seemed overall likeable, all smile and kind face, it didn’t mean that he approved of people randomly approaching him and striking up a conversation. Didn’t they know he was supposed to be _left alone_?

'I've been looking all over for you. How are you feeling?' she asked and offered him the warmest smile he’d seen so far. It almost made him feel something other than numb.

'Yeah, I'm cool,' he lied with a shrug. He was good at pretending, he’s been doing it for years.

She looked at him with in a brief moment of suspicion before cracking a smile again and sidestepping slightly, gesturing past her in an invitation for him to walk with her. He didn’t want to, but he knew he had to.

'That’s nice to hear! You’re heading for the lunchroom, yes?' she asked, but Jack could tell that it really was a command and not a question. She trapped him with her niceness, cornering him with that one assumption. She was good at this, he realized. Good enough to know if he pulled a lie out of his ass to get away.

'Yeah,' he replied coolly, sounding just about as unenthusiastic as he felt.

'Great, I'll walk you there. It's this way,' she said, and as such she headed down the hall. Jack had no choice but to follow. At least now he didn't have to worry about getting lost.

'I'm Ana, by the way. I distribute the medicine, so we'll be seeing a lot of each other!' Her cheeriness was contagious, and Jack found himself actually smiling. Now, he was sure that he liked her. He murmured a quiet, 'looking forward to it' and they proceeded to walk in a comfortable silence.

Now since Jack was a teenager, he couldn't help but shoot an admiring glance over her rump that bounced with each step. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad, staying here.

 

_****** _

 

All tables were pretty much taken. There were only a few seats on each table row that were left empty, and so Jack found himself at a predicament. All empty seats were still in close proximity to someone else, and in this sort of place that would warrant a conversation being started, with him included. That was something he did not want. He bit his lip, feeling like a worthless little shit all over again. He probably looked like an idiot, standing there in the middle of the mess hall with his plate of food. Then he spotted a table that was practically deserted, save for just one man sitting there alone.

It was his best shot.

With slow, hesitant steps, Jack made his way towards the table. If he was quiet enough, maybe the man wouldn’t notice him. As he got closer, he saw that the food was left untouched, and the man was mumbling quietly to himself.  
 _Great, a lunatic._ They would usually start babbling crazy shit at him, or just ignore him - so far three had done so, up until now, and he hadn't even been there for a full day yet. He hoped for the latter, it made him less uncomfortable. He sat down, making sure that the plate hit the table as quietly as possible by cushioning it with his fingers, hoping to remain unnoticed. The man didn’t look up, and Jack exhaled a shaky breath of relief.

As he picked up a dry lump of bread he carefully observed the mumbling man, who appeared to be lost in whatever crazed string of thoughts went through his head.

He was sickly pale, and the crossed fingers that he leaned his forehead against had a purple tone to them. He judged from that, and by the way his cheekbones protruded so much in his gaunt face, that this man wasn’t very good at eating. His untouched plate made it even more obvious. His eyes stared blankly ahead, lost in space, and Jack couldn’t decide on whether they were grey or yellow. It looked like they were glowing, mostly because of how dark the tired circles around his eyes were. The whole sunken-in feeling about his face was a bit creepy, but he couldn’t deny that he was good-looking despite how sick he appeared to be. His first impression of the man could be summed up with four words; starving, sleep deprived and insane.

Jack watched his muted rambling quietly for a few seconds before averting his gaze to his plate of food. It looked way more appetizing than what they offered at the hospital, but it still all looked dry and tasteless. He grimaced at the vegetables, scowled at the sweet potatoes and the slice of beef and the pickles and the sauce. He pushed it away from himself, having lost his appetite, and slumped in his seat.

'You are dead,' a deep, raspy voice suddenly said, and Jack jolted in his seat. He looked up to see that the man was looking straight at him, his eyes stretched wide open. There wasn’t any shock in his expression, though. It could only be described as innocent curiosity, or perhaps interest.

'W-what?' Jack stammered, having absolutely no idea what the man meant by that. Sulking, he realized that the he was probably right. He was dead, dead on the inside, rotten and filthy and undeserving of air, and he was just a walking around a walking corpse that people tried to shake life into.

The man tilted his head slightly, looking puzzled. Then something seemed to click in his head as he straightened up, the dazed expression melting away and he looked somewhat like a regular person – minus his physical condition.

'Oh, you’re not. My mistake,' he said and resumed doing whatever he was doing. Apparently it was staring at his food without touching it. There was no limit to Jack’s confusion. He stared at the man for a moment, noted the slight tremble of his fingers and the feral look in his eyes, before frowning and looking out the window. He propped a hand underneath his chin for support and sighed heavily.

He raised his free arm and observed the bandage that was wrapped around his wrist, halfway down his forearm. The loon’s comment still bothered him. Something about it was just so off. Like, how would he know what Jack felt like inside? And why would he just turn around and say he was mistaken? _‘You are dead’_ … Jack let out a soft humorless chuckle. What a fucking joke. A complete stranger, a mad one at that, was better at seeing him than what his family was. He had noticed something was up in a few seconds when his own mother hadn’t done _shit_ until it was too late.

He could feel eyes on him, and he turned back to the man. He was staring at him again, and didn't seem to be ashamed of being caught doing it, because he kept eye-contact for an uncomfortable period of time.

'Er—' Jack started, his usual wit and snarky attitude gone with the wind, and he was left with an awkward feeling in his stomach.

'What is your name?' the man asked, and frankly Jack was surprised at how casual it sounded, considering his apparent state of madness earlier. He stared, dumbstruck, before realizing that he had to reply.

'Uh. Jackson. Just call me Jack,' he said, leaning back slightly. He was wary of this stranger, but he was undeniably intrigued by him. There was just something that made him gravitate towards him. The man nodded at his answer and looked down at the table and seemed to drift off again. After a while, Jack cleared his throat. The man looked up, surprised.

'Yes?'

'Uh.. What about you? What's your name?'

It seemed like the man had forgotten that he didn't say it, because he looked genuinely surprised when he was asked. He blinked several times and then nodded vigurously again.

'Oh, yes, yes. Of course. My mistake. It's Pitch,' he said.

Wow. That was only the strangest name he'd heard so far. He suppressed a snicker when he realized that it could easily be misheard as 'bitch', but he wouldn't say that out loud. Pitch didn't look like the kind of guy that would appreciate a joke.

'That's a rather odd name,' he said, idly pushing around a sweet potato with his fork. It had gone cold, by now, so he would certainly not eat it now. Pitch continued to stare at him, but not as wide-eyed and animal like as before.

'It's an alias,' he deadpanned, and Jack looked up at him, curious.

'So what's your real name, then?'

Pitch didn't answer, but just glared down at his food again.

'Pitch?' Jack pushed, but he received no answer. Nope, he had definitely shut off completely this time. He frowned, feeling a bit irritated at Pitch's behaviour. But then again, he thought, he shouldn't expect anything 'normal' in a psych ward. Though he countered himself again, by thinking that Pitch had actually acted normal just a second ago. He was just... odd.

Jack himself could feel normal. He could feel happy. He just didn't do that all that often. He realized that Pitch most likely was like that too. He could be normal, too, he just slipped off sometimes..

Often; Jack changed it to when he heard Pitch start to mumble to himself again.

 

**

 

Pitch didn't notice when Jack slipped away, and so the boy left the mess hall on his own. It was probably for the best; he didn't think Pitch would be that enjoyable of a company. He considered trying to go find Ana. He liked her, and it was the only one he could see himself actively talking to in this place. But then he remembered his initial plan to go to his room, and see if his roommate was there. Deciding to head there, he searching through his head to try and recall where exactly the room was.

Probably near the communal room. It made the most sense, and a little flutter of intuition told him that yes, that was probably it.

It took him a while, but finally Jack had found the room. He pulled on the handle and pushed it open, peering in before stepping inside. He wasn't quite sure why he did it, but it just felt safer to look before he leapt. Just in case. After noting that the room was empty, he stepped inside. It was a fairly small room with two beds in either corner. There was one large window between them, and he saw a few cut-out posters put up on the wall by one of the beds. He assumed that it was Jamie's bed, and sat down on the empty one.

He laid down on the mattress and stared at the ceiling, just waiting for boredom to settle in and drive him insane. Maybe that's what had happened to the 'less ordinary' patients, here.

Less ordinary like Pitch, Jack thought, frowning to himself. No matter how he tried, the man who had called him dead wouldn't leave his thoughts. Really, he wasn't anything special, and Jack was being silly for obsessing over the guy just because of their pathetically brief conversation. All he got to know was his name, and here was thinking about him like a teenager crushing on their teacher after the first day of school.

That comparison made him scoff, for some reason, and he turned to his side with a frustrated sound. Maybe he could just sleep time away until dinner, and then he wouldn't have to fill the gaps with useless thinking.

 

Jack was dozing off when the door opened, and he propped himself up on his elbows without having come back to full consciousness first. Blinking into focus, he saw a boy that looked about his age – maybe even younger – standing in the doorway, looking at him with surprise. That look of shock was quickly replaced by the second welcoming smile of the day.

'Hi!' he chirped, and Jack was suddenly certain this boy was younger than him. He rubbed his eyes and sat up properly with his back leaning against the wall.

'Hey,' he replied as he watched the boy walk over to the other bed to sit down on it, bringing his legs up off the floor to sit cross-legged on the bed with hands grasped around his calves. He was leaning forward slightly, and looked at Jack with enormous brown eyes. Jack was sure that about 80% of the girls of any school would find him absolutely adorable.

'So you're Jamie,' Jack said, and the boy nodded vigorously in response. Jamie smiled brightly, and as he opened his mouth Jack prepared himself for the onslaught of questions that was sure to come.

'You're my new roommate?' he asked, as if it wasn't obvious enough.

'Yeah. Name's Jack. I literally just got in,' Jack said and gestured nonchalantly with his hand at nothing in particular.

'Nice to meet you, Jack. I guess I'm supposed to show you around? I haven't had a roommate before, so I don't really know what to do.' He rubbed sheepishly at his head and gave a smile that could give anyone cavities with how sweet it was. This guy was Grade A Cute and even Jack, who didn't even know he liked guys until very recently, felt his heart flutter just the slightest bit.

Jack realized he was supposed to respond, so he shrugged and said, 'Yeah, I guess. If you have the time.'

'Duh, we hardly have anything to do, in between therapy sessions and group, of course I have the time.' He made a face, then cracked into a soft giggle that coaxed a smile out of Jack.

'So I've heard. Wanna go now?'

Jamie blinked at him a few times, then stumbled over his words as he waved his hands about. Studying Jamie and his bouncy eagerness to know everything about Jack, he thought he seemed so happy-go-lucky that Jack couldn't honestly believe he'd be in here for anything.

'In a bit, I just need to do something real quick, if that's okay.'

Jack simply nodded and flopped rather lazily onto his back, bouncing a bit on the bed as Jamie shuffled over to his desk to do whatever – Jack wasn't paying attention to him anymore.

There were a few cracks in the white paint of the ceiling, and the sight made Jack smile bitterly to himself. Behind the perfect spotless surface was the dark rugged wood, old and shriveled and possibly water damaged. Jack didn't actually think it was water damaged, but he figured it would fit the metaphor he built for himself, since he was lying a tub of water stained red from blood when he tried to kill himself.

Water damaged, dark, forgotten and covered up with a white clear surface. That were words he could describe himself with. That was how he used to be, but just like the cracks in the ceiling, the damaged part of him was beginning to show.

He heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and he felt eyes on him. Looking up, he met Jamie's bright brown eyes along with an equally bright smile.

'Ready to go see the ward?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I initially thought that the word count wasn't all that impressive. But I don't think this would do well being a beast with thousands of words, so I think this is a good enough size. That also means I can get new chapters out a bit faster. Now I'm not nearly consistent in my writing, so updates will not have any set deadline, unfortunately.  
> However, I am excited to write this, so look forward to the next chapter;
> 
> Jamie shows Jack around the ward, and we get to know a little better why Jack felt like that in the first place. Not to mention we'll get another encounter with Pitch.


	2. Trapped in a cold shell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we learn that Jack's thoughts has a tendency to run off without him and something is definitely up with Pitch. That, and the others don't like him very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than expected and I apologize U - U Parts have been very fun to write and some parts really kicked my ass but here it is nonetheless. If you wonder anything about the fic just holler at me on tumblr @ disobedient-fiction.
> 
> The usual triggers are of course still valid. If you have any fear of bugs or insects I suggest you tread carefully towards the end of the chapter.

Jack barely got to his feet before Jamie was in front of him, grabbing his arm in a grip that was firmer than he expected and within seconds he was being dragged out the door. There were a few more people in the hallway now – lunch was over with so that was no bigger surprise – but Jamie marched on without paying them more attention than necessary.

'Obviously here are the rooms for this ward. If you don't remember where ours is just come find me and I'll show you,' Jamie said, taking every few seconds or so to shoot Jack that charming smile of his. It unconsciously made Jack's own mouth tug upwards; the boy's excitement was contagious. Jamie walked at a brisk pace, and Jack inwardly swore at himself for getting the antagonistic urge to pull back and drag his feet. If Jamie was already in here, then he didn't need Jack to make things even more miserable for him. They came to a more or less empty room with a bunch of comfortable looking armchairs.

'Over here is the lounge. There isn't much to do here but just sit around, so not a lot of people come here. People started calling it 'The Talker' a while back, cause this is where everyone comes to talk about private stuff.' He glanced over at Jack, smiling wistfully at the puzzled look on his face.

'Like at school, when a girl would pull you aside to 'have a talk' and such,' he said, and Jack nodded in understanding. Those sorts of talks were always nerve-wracking, even for him who mostly felt numb and run down most of the time. Before his suicide attempt teachers had tapped his arm and asked for a word; a _Talk_ , and then pull Jack into their office and go on and on about how mortified they were over his failing grades and then direct him to the school counselor. Girls had also admitted a crush one or two times, though Jack hardly ever took it further than just one date to the movies where he made it clear he just wanted to be friends. He suppressed a shudder at the memory and concentrated on Jamie's firm grip on his arm to distract him from it. Thinking about school made him feel queasy.

They didn’t linger in The Talker for long and the two of them were soon on their way down the hall again. Jamie veered off to the right and stopped in an open arch, and Jack almost stumbled forward. Looking up and cursing Jamie’s apparent swiftness, Jack saw a room he hadn’t been in before; a creative arts room of sorts. There were a few people in it, all seated by tables and they appeared to be drawing. He even saw a few using water colours to paint. In a corner he spotted a door labeled ‘musical instruments’ and felt his curiosity burning. They got to play music? He’d always wanted to learn how to play the guitar, but he’d never gotten to.

‘This is obviously the art room. I don’t hang around here all that much, most of the people who are here have the mindset of five year olds so...’ Jamie trailed off and gave Jack a look that he guessed he was supposed to understand, but he didn’t. He couldn’t see how that would be anything bad. Sure, it would probably be a bit weird considering most of them looked to be adults but hey, Jack loved kids. 

'They can't be that bad,' Jack said, and Jamie just shrugged and moved on without responding. 

They returned to the hallway and continued onwards, and Jack's thoughts were beginning to drift by then. Sure, Jamie seemed nice, but this tour was honestly quite boring, and he could just learn the layout of the place himself. He'd probably be here for a while, so he had all the time he needed to find his way around the ward.

Then they arrived at a room Jack recognized.

'This is--'

'The mess hall,' Jack interrupted. It was nearly empty by now; only a few patients sat by the tables, lingering just to talk. No one was eating, at least, and most of the food was gone from their plates. Looking around, Jack noted that Pitch wasn't there anymore. He was sort of disappointed. Pitch was interesting, and Jack couldn't help but want to know more about him.

'.. Yes.' Jack thought Jamie sounded a bit sour with that agreement. Seemed he didn't like getting interrupted. But the slight falter in his face was covered up quickly, and he was beaming again. 'This is were we eat and stuff. The food isn't all that bad, but it could be better. Let's keep going.' They turned around and were quickly on their way once more, going the opposite way down the hall. Jack had a vague idea where they were going.

'Are we going to the room with the tv? I've been there already,' he said, looking over at Jamie to see his reaction. He stopped and looked at Jack in silence for a few seconds. He seemed a bit taken aback and it irked Jack a little bit that he seemed so surprised that Jack knew anything about the place. Sure, it was his first day in the ward, but really he wasn't so daft that he wouldn't do any exploring of his own. 

'Okay. Well then, that's the tour, I guess. You'll see the group room and the other therapy rooms later.' He gestured down the hall. 'The bathroom's down the hall where the rooms are. I'm going to the entertainment room either way, are you coming with?'

Jack shrugged; it wasn't like he had anything else to do, and he had no idea what the schedule was, yet. 'Yeah, I guess.'

 

**

 

The silence that followed their walk had been somewhat awkward; Jamie seemed a little off, but Jack didn't let it get him down too much. They had just met after all, they were bound to experience some awkward silences. Either way, it did put him on edge. 

They sat down with a couple of others in the entertainment room. Jamie introduced them as Nicholas and Edmund, though everyone called him either Bunnymund or just Bunny. Jack didn't know why, but it obviously was some sort of inside-thing he'd have to ask Jamie about later. He didn't want to embarrass himself by asking out loud first time they met, after all. He didn't know what any of them were in for, but he had an idea about Bunny. It surely had something to do with the burns that covered the entire left side of his face. It continued down his neck, but if it went further he couldn't tell because of his shirt. He wanted to know about it, but it would be incredibly rude to ask. As everyone kept talking he found himself zoning out. Everyone knew each other, and Jack couldn't help but feel a bit left out. He wasn't included in the conversation that was going on - though, it wasn't like he really wanted to be included. When he was younger Jack had been quite the chatterbox, but nowadays he couldn't find the will to talk to strangers, or anyone he didn't _have_ to talk to. Then his world of silent and un-included musing was shattered;

'So, Jack, how're ya settlin' so far?' The Australian accent was apparent when Edmund - Bunnymund, Jack corrected himself - addressed him out of the blue. Or perhaps it wasn't so out of the blue considering he was sitting with them and they had gone through the obligatory introductions required for making acquaintances. He must've noticed Jack wasn't contributing to the conversation. Jack mentally welded his mouth shut in order to not stammer any stupid shit that would make him look like an idiot and quickly gathered his wits about him to try and think of a response.

'Yeah, it's okay,' he said and had a quiet internal celebration at the casual and nonchalant tone he managed. He looked away to the wall on the opposite side of the room and he felt his skin prickle with the eyes of everyone on him. It was really uncomfortable, he had to direct the attention elsewhere. He scanned the room quickly, and found a very familiar figure sitting alone in a corner. Perfect opportunity to change the subject and avert the attention away from him.

'So does anyone know anything about that guy?' he said and nodded in the figure's direction. 'Pitch, or whatever.'

The looks everyone exchanged gave him the feeling that you do not simply talk about Pitch. He looked over completely when Bunny leaned forward.

'Why'd ya wanna know about him?' he asked with frown on his face. The uncomfortable shiver that went down Jack's spine confirmed that you did not simply talk about Pitch - at least not with these guys. He reminded himself to play it cool, stay calm and just ride it out. There's nothing wrong with curiosity.

'I sat with him at lunch. I was just curious,' he said with a shrug, and another exchange of looks went around the table. Wow, he was making some stellar first impressions, he could tell.

'You shouldn't do that,' Nicholas said, Russian in every sense of the word. 'He is sick in the mind, very much so.' Jack was about to point at that all of them had to be some level of fucked-up in order to end up in here, but he remained silent. Here, Jamie butted in, apparently having noticed Jack biting his tongue.

'He means he's worse off than the rest of us,' he said, his voice void of any of his useful cheerfulness. 'I don't know what he has, but it makes him have these episodes, sometimes.' A jabbed a thumb in Nicholas' direction. 'During one of them he stabbed Nicholas' in the chest with a pencil. Everyone freaked out. It was crazy.'

Jack blinked, shocked into silence. 'He seemed alright when I spoke to him,' he said and diverted his eyes to the table. The sheen of its sleek surface was suddenly very interesting, and Jack just had to study it more carefully. It didn't provide the safety he wanted and he felt their eyes on him, burning holes into his skin. He felt so bare, suddenly, and he wanted to get away. He was still not included.

'You really shouldn't hang out with him, Jack,' Bunny warned. It calmed Jack a little to hear sincerity in his tone, but the whole discussion made him uncomfortable, regardless. He looked over at Pitch again where he sat, alone, and the knot in his stomach tightened a bit. It wasn't right to just leave the sick to tend themselves, when in reality there was no way that they could do that. Jack frowned and determination etched itself across his features. He stood up suddenly, and he noticed Bunny straighten up just a little. 

'Well, I'm gonna go talk to him,' he announced and left before anyone could protest. Jack only realized that he had no idea what to say when he was more than halfway over, and Pitch had noticed him approach by then.

He was staring at him with those big unnatural eyes again. Jack gulped and had to gather all his courage in order to keep on walking towards him, and he put on a smile as he sat down opposite Pitch.

'Hey,' he said and at first it felt like he might as well have said it to the wall, because Pitch just stared at him with a look like he couldn't possibly wrap his head around the fact that Jack had just sat down by his table. Jack could almost see the thought process in his eyes; how confused it was.

'Hello,' he replied at last, hesitantly. It sounded almost like a question. He glanced over at the others' table, narrowing his eyes slightly when he saw them staring. He turned back to Jack with a cold look and his thin lips pulled into a frown. 'Did they set you up for this?'

Jack almost tripped over his words in his hurry to deny his assumption.

'No! No, they didn't..' He cleared his throat softly and calmed himself down. He said that a bit too loud. 'They said I shouldn't talk to you, so I'm going to prove to them that I can if I want to.'

Pitch didn't look impressed.

'How brave of you,' he said plainly and Jack was almost surprised to detect sarcasm in his words. Though he couldn't decide whether he actually had a sense of humour or if he was just an asshole. He hoped for the former. Jack chewed on his lip as his thoughts raced all over the place trying to find a topic; anything would do as long as he could avoid an awkward silence because then it'd feel like he had failed to prove something to the others.

'Are you doing this as some sort of initiation?' Pitch asked, yanking him out of his thoughts.

'No, I just.. Thought you'd be better company, I guess,' he said with a shrug. Pitch gave him a look he couldn't read, then glanced down at his hands looking thoughtful. When he looked up again, he looked frightened.

'Did they patch the holes?' he asked, much to Jack's confusion. Holes? He hadn't heard anything about any holes, and not anything about patching them either. 

'The what?'

'The holes in the walls. Can't you feel them? There are holes. They appear when you're not looking and that's where the shadow men come in from.' Pitch sounded frantic, like it was very important that Jack knew this. He was even more confused now and wondered if this was one of the 'episodes' the others had mentioned. He really didn't want to experience that, but as it was for the moment it didn't seem _that_ bad.

'I don't know anything about any holes. I haven't seen any either,' Jack said, and Pitch began to rapidly shake his head.

'No, no, no, you darn idiot! You don't see the holes, _no one sees the holes_. They hide when you look. But I know they're there. The shadow men come from the holes.'

Jack had no idea what or who the shadow men were, but somehow he felt that they were connected to Pitch's first words to him; you are dead. Did he hallucinate? He wondered if he was hallucinating now, but he didn't dare ask in case he would trigger some sort of crazy freakout or something. That would be a bit too scary.

'But I haven't seen any shadow men either,' he said. 'Are you sure about these holes?' Pitch nodded rapidly again. If he kept on doing that he'd probably get a whiplash, eventually.

'No one else sees the shadow men. I know I'm crazy, I know I am. You don't have to tell me.' Pitch was mumbling now. Jack didn't get the implication that it was meant for him to hear. He looked up at Jack, looking him straight in the eye with a grave expression. 'Do you think I'm crazy, Jack?'

He hadn't expected him to remember his name. He considered himself to be forgettable, insignificant. He wasn't interesting enough to be remembered. It was a pleasant surprise. 

'No,' he said, but when he saw Pitch's skeptical face he added, 'Okay, maybe a little bit. But not in the way you think. Probably.' He realized he would have to do a truckload of explaining, having said that, and he groaned inwardly as he thought about school presentations and what a pain they were to execute. Explain your opinions. Back up your opinions with arguments. Have legitimate facts. Do this. Do that. Talk clearly and stand straight. Don't move around too much. Eye contact, eye contact, _eye contact--_  

'I mean, it's pretty obvious you're not normal. But you're not actually.. like.. crazy. I don't think anyone here really is; they just have something in their brain that fucks them up and that's basically it.' He paused for breath. He wasn't even sure if Pitch believed what he was saying. 'Crazy is when you do stupid shit even when you're normal, but even then it's not necessarily a bad thing..' He had no idea where he was going. _Might as well shut up, Jack._ But then Pitch leaned forward slightly, pinning him to the spot with the pure intensity of his eyes. He seemed to be on the verge of saying something, but his lips remained sealed. Discomfort prickled Jack's spine, being fixed with a look like that. But despite that, he still felt more at ease with Pitch than he did the others. Both of them was two odd dots outside the circle, after all.

'You can talk yourself out of anything, can't you?' Pitch said, his blank face turning into a look of vague smugness. It irritated Jack somewhat, but he couldn't help a soft laugh of confusion.

'What do you mean?'

'You just strike me as the sort of person that can ramble so much nonsense that no one even remembers what you're in trouble for any longer.' 

He wasn't sure if it was a compliment or an insult; it seemed a weird mix of both, if that was possible. Nevertheless, he felt that it was true for him, to some degree. He was good at lying, at least. 

'I guess,' he said with a shrug, leaning back in his seat. Pitch looked down again, marking the end of their brief conversation, and finally Jack noticed he was actually reading a book. Since he was no scholar in reading upside-down, he couldn't tell what book it was, unfortunately, but he wasn't even that interested either way. Studying Pitch and his calm exterior, despite the mild freakout earlier, Jack couldn't really imagine him stabbing someone with a pencil, even less someone as tall and scary-looking as Nicholas. But Pitch did look sort of scary himself, and with his long and slender limbs he probably looked like an overgrown spider, standing up. Jack imagined him to be tall, and with how sickly pale and skinny he was, he probably looked even taller and out of proportion. From here it looked like he could wrap his fingers around Pitch's wrist twice over. He wondered how he was even able to move around, looking like that.

Curiosity sparked in him again, and he glanced around before he leaned in closer and asked in a hushed voice;

'What're you in for?' 

Even if Pitch sat still before, now he went completely rigid. It was like Jack had pushed the pause button on the remote and Pitch was waiting for him to go to the bathroom and be done already so the film could continue. Except it wasn't a movie and this was real life and Jack was certain that he had surely fucked up now. Pitch looked up at him and Jack decided yes, he had fucked up. Badly. 

'That is none of your business, _Jack_.' The way he spat his name was like it was an insult, something disgusting he didn't want to be associated with. Jack could relate.

'Alright, alright, forget I asked,' he said, getting the hint and quickly dropping the subject. _If looks could kill_ , he thought idly and looked away, wondering if it was such a good idea to stick around after that. The awkward silence was suffocating.

'Hey, Jack! Group is starting!' His saviour came in the shape of Jamie calling out to him, and he thanked his lucky stars that it was precisely in that moment and not any sooner. He took a moment to stand up to not seem too eager to get away from Pitch. 

'So uh..' he began, and Pitch looked up at him with that same murderous expression, although it was laced with some sort of intrigue. It was softer. 'It was nice talking to you, I guess.' Awkward levels rising.

Pitch was silent for a moment before replying, 'Likewise.'

'See you later?' He sounded a bit more hesitant than he would've of liked, and he felt a familiar lump of anxiety in his chest. He's made a fool out of himself for sure.

'Supposedly.' Pitch didn't look at him while responding, this time.

 

Well, it was better than flat out denial.

 

**

 

The Group room was fairly large, and chairs were placed in a perfect circle. Every took their seat quickly, and Jack sat down next to Jamie, uncertainly looking at everyone else. He saw Nicholas and Bunny and a whole bunch of others he didn't recognize. Jamie sat on his left side, to his right sat an older boy with pale red hair, staring at the wall looking all sorts of lost. Next to him sat a scrawny boy with white hair, much like Jack himself, sporting a haircut that could only be described as a bowl cut that was caught in a lawn mower. His eyes were wide open and he stared expectantly at everyone with a childlike glee. Seated directly opposite of Jack was a girl that couldn't be older than 15 with short brown hair and blue eyes that he swore had a purple tint to them. 

He didn't get the moment to observe the others before the Group leader cleared her throat and smiled at everyone. 'Hello, everyone!' she said in a warm, motherly voice, letting her gaze sweep over everyone before stopping at Jack. 'I see we have a new face here, why don't you introduce yourself?'

And we're off to a brilliant start with everyone's attention immediately placed on him. Great. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and made an attempt not to meet anyone's eyes.

'My name is Jackson Overland Frost, but you can call me Jack. It's better if you do, at least.' The Group leader nodded, making her ponytail bounce at her neck while still maintaining that warm smile.

'Nice to meet you, Jack. My name is Katherine and I'm sure everyone will do their best to make you feel welcome.'

Everyone else nodded in agreement, and Jack muttered 'thanks' before retreating into himself even further. He didn't partake in any class discussions and he certainly didn't want to partake in this. If this was all about opening up and letting others in, then to hell with that. He had built a cold, hard shell around him and no one was about to penetrate through that anytime soon. Jack Frost was to be cold as ice. Katherine beamed gently at everyone and licked her lips to moisten them before speaking up once more 

.'Today, I think we should talk about how we perceive ourselves, and how we can change anything negative into something positive!' she said, and Jack felt himself wince. No, that was completely off-bounds and there was no way he was going to say anything about himself. These people had no business knowing how he perceived himself, and he certainly had no inclination to changing. He didn't feel like he could change; what was the point if he was eventually just going to keel over and bite the dust, either way? Everything was meaningless. Group was meaningless and he wanted out. Now.

Talking to Pitch was far more enjoyable than this, which was by definition just a load of crap. Talking to Pitch offered a feeling of excitement and apprehension; what would he do next? What would he say? Jack was so strangely drawn to him and at the same time a bit frightened of him. It couldn't be normal. He'd heard of chemistry between people that had just met and them getting along right off the bat but this was just ridiculous in comparison. This wasn't just some ordinary chemistry, but Jack was fixated on the strange man. His thoughts were suddenly full of Pitch and his odd mannerisms and Jack didn't even feel obliged to listen to what anyone in the room said about themselves. Only when Jamie spoke up right by his ear was he yanked out of his haze.

'I am very good at talking,' he said, sounding very sure of himself. 'I'm good at making friends and getting people to like me.' Katherine smiled at him and Jack thought somewhat amused that she would have cramping cheeks by the end of the day.

'That's great, Jamie. Being able to socialize is a very useful ability out in the real world. I'm sure you'll do very well when you're discharged.' The look on Jamie's face bordered on odd. It had that aloof quality about it and it kind of rubbed him the wrong way, but the whole Group experience was on the uncomfortable part of the experience spectrum. As Jamie nodded in agreement, Katherine's eyes turned to Jack. 

'What about you, Jack? What are you good at?' she asked and a lump of dread swelled in his throat, thick and painful. He tried to swallow past it as he felt himself momentarily panic. What was he good at? He couldn't think of a single thing he could do that was worthy of any mention. What had he even done in the past few weeks that was any achievement? He absently rubbed his throat trying to work the lump away when he thought of something. The kids in his neighborhood. He would watch them sometimes for easy money and they were really great. Jack was a fond name in their circles of friends. They looked up to him and would eagerly run up to him to say hi whenever they saw him get home from school.

'I'm good with kids,' he said, sounding a bit surprised at this himself. 'I like hanging out with them, and they're really cool and imaginative. Kids are awesome.' He sat back in his seat, feeling proud of himself for having thought of that. He was good at something, at least. Katherine seemed overjoyed. 

'The moment you stepped in I knew you were a kid-loving person. I can clearly picture you laughing,' she said, nodding with such a vigor that her ponytail seemed to start to come loose. Katherine kept talking for a while longer and Jack found himself spacing out again. She had that soothing quality to her voice that made you fall half-asleep in your seat. There was a window to the left and Jack's eyes sought it out unconsciously. There was just something appealing out of staring out windows into the world outside. He looked at the trees, the large fluffy clouds that lazily drifted past in the sky. Jack had often wished that he could fly, be able to spread a pair of wings and soar through the air without a single worry in the world. Down here, grounded, he felt trapped, especially in this facility that he had no way of getting out of unless he was discharged and that would surely take a while. A long while. 

He was stuck here just like he'd been before. Trapped in a monotone reality where he had no sense of direction, nowhere to go and no one to go to. It was very similar to his situation now, except now he had people he could go to, the only difference was that he didn't want to go to anyone. He'd been locked inside himself for so long he had no idea how to get out of the cage he'd built around himself. Sitting there, staring out the window, he had an epiphany. The protective shell had kept people out, but it had also ensure he'd locked him up inside and he had no way out of it. 

'That's it for today, everyone! I'll see you around next time. It was very interesting this session and I hope you all have a lot to think about,' Katherine said suddenly. Jack didn't realize so much time had passed already that the session was over. He got to his feet rather slowly, looking around with a lost sort of expression. What did he do now? Go to bed? There sun wasn't even that low on the sky yet, so the clock couldn't be much at all. When he saw Jamie slip out of the room, he sighed in resignation and left as well, heading for their room. He might as well go there, since he didn't exactly feel like socializing with anyone. He was meant to be locked away, after all.

 

**

 

Lying alone on the bed proved to be unbearable of first. Not because he felt lonely, but because he was bored. He tried to doze off, but the boredom refused to let sleep gently lull him away into neverland and he was left tossing and turning for who knows how long. That it was too long, was all he knew. He stared at the white ceiling, staring at that same crack from earlier while trying to blank out his thoughts. There was just the endless white with that interrupting dark crack right in the middle of it. It bothered him so much and he began to imagine peeling the ceiling off to reveal more of the wood underneath. 

When he began to see bugs crawl out of it he immediately turned on his side and squeezed his eyes shut. He hated when his imagination ran away like that. Hated when he couldn't direct himself, control himself. He hated everything.

He could hear the tiny little legs of the bugs scurrying out over the ceiling, covering it in twitching black little bodies spreading out in formations as the systematically came down the walls. The flood of insects didn't stop. The room was covered in beetles and Jack was covered in beetles and they were all over him and he would be buried soon and they'd burrow into his skin and eat him from the inside out. 

He sat up with a silent scream, his mouth hanging open. Thankfully, not a sound came out but his heavy breathing, so no one could've noticed. Looking around frantically, searching the room for bugs, he noticed the room was dark and Jamie was in his bed, sleeping. Jack had drifted off and had been welcomed by a nightmare.

Something brushed his neck and he jerked violently, crawling other to the opposite side of the bed and staring at the sheets, looking for something, anything, that could've done it. He saw nothing.

The shadow men, he realized, feeling his heart beginning to thud against his chest in a rythm that was everything but normal. They were here. They were going to get him and Pitch had even warned him about them, in a way. He should've known. It was the crack in the ceiling. It was a hole that didn't hide and he'd fallen asleep without guarding it and now the shadow men had come out of it and they were going to get him. He didn't know what they'd do to him but it was bad.

Shaking his head, Jack tried desperately to assure himself that he was just imagining things like always. Pitch was crazy. There couldn't possibly be any shadow men coming out of unseen holes but Jack still couldn't convince himself that it wasn't true. Because what if it was? _What if?_  

He pressed his fists against the sides of his head in a pathetic attempt to get his thoughts to shut up. He was just pressing and pressing and the pain was so satisfying and amazing and it finally just let everything _go._ His breaths were labored and heavy, a broken sound that somehow managed to get out of him. But he couldn’t get rid of the panic and the choking weight that wrung its claws around his throat and pulled it down into his chest. Just _pulling_ and _pulling_ and it just wouldn’t _stop_. He was certain that it was the shadow men. They had come in the shape of bugs and now they were inside of him and they were breaking him, tearing him apart.

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he squeezed them shut even harder to try and keep them in, but it didn’t work. They just poured out, blurred his vision and ran down his cheeks, wet and salty, and he just couldn’t get them to go away. His emotions wouldn’t leave him alone. They ripped at him and tore him apart from inside. He preferred the numbness, he preferred feeling nothing at all. He preferred everything over this. And people, people were even worse. They came with questions. Asked him about things he didn’t want to even think about. They prodded and poked in every private corner of his mind and it hurt. It hurt so much and all he wanted was for the pain to simply go away.

And now, they’d even deprived him of that. There was nothing sharp in the room, nothing he could use to escape with. There was nothing. Nothing. Everything was empty and he wouldn't stop falling, suffocating, dying-

'Jack! Hey, Jack! Are you alright, man?'

He jerked up, sitting up rigid in his bed and stared into the dark to the other side where Jamie's bed was. He blinked rapidly in an attempt to see anything past the tears. He wiped away quickly and forced a smile while he felt at least a little grateful that Jamie had interrupted like he did. It was a clean cut on the train of thought and he vaguely remembered going to the doctor's as a little kid after an accident in the kitchen. The doctor had said it was a clean cut and that was good, because it would heal quicker.

'Yeah.. Yeah I'm alright..' he said on a shaky voice that barely held together. He was far from alright, but it was as good as he'd get at that time. He curled up on the bed, drawing his legs up to his chest and hugging his knees tightly. His breathing was still uneven and it quivered like a dry leaf in the Autumn wind. After a while he heard the rustle of covers as Jamie resettled in his bed, and Jack could almost picture the concerned crease of his eyebrows. Though he probably didn't even care and he was only addressing Jack purely because he prevented him from sleeping with his loud breathing. Jack took a deep breath and bit his lip in order to keep in a wet sob, and squeezed his eyes shut. His exhaustion caught up to him eventually and soon he drifted off.

That night he dreamt about dark faceless creatures crawling out of holes in the walls, with discoloured slime dripping out of their wide open maws.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am strangely pleased with that last sentence.
> 
> In the next chapter we meet Jack's therapist and Jamie voices his thoughts on Jack's continuous attempts to talk to Pitch.


	3. Have you ever been alive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize so much for the lack of updates. I know I've been gone for a long, long time and I am so sorry for that. I've been through a rough couple of months with a lot of changes and new stuff going on, but things are beginning to settle and fall into place now, so I feel I can finally really get back into writing.
> 
> So here it is, at last; Chapter 3 of Frost, Interrupted!!

When Jack woke up, sticky with sweat and rightly unsettled from his nightmare, Jamie wasn't there. He drew a hand through his hair to stop it from sticking to his forehead and sat up. He realized he hadn't even changed clothes before he went to bed and they felt uncomfortable after having been worn for so long. When he kicked his feet over the side of a bed, a shudder and a pang of dread made his head snap up to the crack in the ceiling. Fortunately, it looked as normal as ever; no bugs were crawling out of it. Jack sighed heavily and buried his face in his hands for a moment, taking deep breaths to calm down.

There was no use getting worked up over nightmares or waking terrors like that. They weren't real and he felt like an idiot for reacting the way he did. But it did seem so very real at the moment. He absolutely hated nightmares and he hated when his imagination spiraled out of control like that. It didn’t happen all that often, but that didn't mean it wasn't bad when it did. He had hoped that he would've at least bled out his demons when he tried to kill himself but it seems that didn't work.  
With a jolt he realized that today was his first therapy session. Instantly he was wrecked by nerves and he thought bitterly that right when he'd calmed down from one thing he has to worry about the next.

He wasn't even sure just what he was so anxious over - therapy was supposed to help him, even though he didn't want to see anyone, even less talk to them about anything that's been going on in his head. Even worse was if they'd just analyze him like an animal in a cage, jotting down notes about his behaviour as they nodded in pretend thoughtfulness and then laughed about what a loon he was with their colleagues at lunch. No, Jack didn't want that. It made him feel even less human than he already did. The thought of being reduced to nothing more than a diagnosis on a piece of paper made him feel sick.

He looked over at Jamie's empty bed. It had been neatly made and it was as if no one had ever been in it. It didn't exactly make Jack feel any better. It fueled the faintly distant fear that he was truly all alone in the universe. Why would Jamie just leave like that? Wasn't he supposed to show him the ropes and all that? Perhaps he only felt obliged to do so the first day, but Jamie was nice! He'd given Jack a good first impression and it wasn't one that made him think for a second that Jamie would just ditch him. He would've understood if it was because he'd gotten tired of waiting and had left, but that wouldn't make sense. It was 8 AM.

With a heavy sigh, Jack got out of bed. He didn't know if he felt like changing clothes, even if he felt nasty; they had a faint odor of sweat, probably from last night's nightmare. He raised his arms above his head, stretching until he heard his spine emit several small pops and a sense of pleasant relief pulled on his muscles. But even with that, he felt stiff.  Hopefully a trek around the ward would loosen him up.

He turned the handle and pushed the door open, ignoring the violent shudder that went down his spine as he stepped out into the hallway. He glanced over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at the crack in the ceiling one last time before the door closed behind him. He let out a sigh that was a little shakier than he would've liked to admit, leaning against the door. He convinced himself that it was because he was just tired, and because he was afraid something would beat him down the second he took a step forward.

There are no shadow men, Jack. It's just Pitch's insane rambling that's getting to you. Get your shit together.

**

The door before him could be likened to the gates to either Hell or Heaven, depending on which way the impending meeting would go. Hell, most likely. Everything was hell for Jack, all that was missing was fire burning him alive.

It had a window, but the glass was frosted and nearly impossible to see through. It had letters printed on it; ‘DR. ANDERSON’. Apparently that was who Jack was going to speak with for months to come.

Jack knocked twice and opened the door. He was too nervous to wait and he just wanted to get it over with. He stepped inside and had a quick look around. The room wasn't large, but it wasn't small either. Dark wooden panels made the walls and there were two large windows that let in a soft, comfortable light. Diplomas and beautiful, simple paintings decorated the walls and there was a tall bookcase tucked into one corner. There was a sofa along a wall with an armchair not too far away from it with thick upholstery. Despite Jack's nerves, the room induced a feeling of comfort and safety. The general atmosphere was just calm and serene, very much unlike the other parts of the ward where Jack mostly felt trapped and constantly watched.

Right in front of him stood a desk and behind it a very little man with a round, gentle face. His hair was a managed mess of gold and his eyes smiled at him in warm hues of amber and chestnut brown. Jack didn't think he'd ever seen a man look so kind in his entire life. Not even his father's smile could match the gentleness that peered at him from behind the desk.

'Hello, Jackson,' the man said and his voice was so soft and silky that Jack hardly heard it. It was the sort of voice that belonged to someone who rarely spoke, but rather listened and offered gentle input to their thoughts. Maybe Jack had been wrong about this. The man gestured to the sofa and Jack went over maybe a bit too fast and slumped down on it, his leg bouncing in small, rapid movements.

'It's uh.. It's Jack,' he said and glanced around for a moment, a bit too unsettled to look the man straight in the eye. He heard the creak of a chair and looked over to see him stand up and turn to him. He was smiling and as he approached Jack had the time to baffle over how short the man was. He couldn't be more than 4'9" and his plumpness made him appear ever shorter, if looking from a distance.

'Jack,' he said, a friendly greeting. 'I am Dr Anderson. Some of my patients have taken to calling me Sandy, so if you wish to do that, it is completely fine.' Listening to his voice was like having someone dab your ears with soft woolen pads that smelled of lavender and honey. Jack had never once in his life thought that he'd meet anyone that would fit the description of 'creampuff teddybear' but here he was thinking those exact words about the man before him.

Dr Anderson sat down in the armchair, making himself comfortable by wiggling a little and Jack couldn't help but note that his feet hardly reached the ground from his position atop the cushion. He must have noticed how nervous Jack was, because his smile softened ever more, if that was even possible.

'It's alright, Jack. You can relax here,' he said, as gentle as ever, and folded his hands in his lap. Jack looked at him for a moment and eventually leaned back in the sofa, but his leg couldn't stop bouncing. It was a bit of a comfort to not see his psychiatrist holding any kind of clipboard, even if it seemed strange.

'You're not gonna take notes?' he asked, unable to hold his curiosity. Dr. Anderson shook his head, smiling.

'Later. First, I want to get to know you. It is easier to help if you are treated as a person first, not an illness.'

Jack couldn't put words to how that made him feel.

‘So Jack. You have not been feeling well recently,’ Dr. Anderson said with a slight tilt of his head. They really couldn’t have picked a better man for the job, because for the first time in years Jack felt he could actually confide in someone. Every line and muscle on Dr, Anderson’s face spelled empathy and warmth. It was nearly as if he was glowing gold.

‘Yeah.. I’ve been without direction, pretty much. Like, everything is just so pointless, you know?’ Jack said, unable to hold his words. They began spilling and he couldn’t stop the flood. ‘Ever since mom and dad split, it just got harder and harder to get out of bed. I watched her crumble from inside and it made me feel like shit. The family got destroyed and there wasn’t anything I could do.’

‘Emma was torn up too. It just hurt so much because everyone around me was broken, and I couldn’t take it. I tried to put on a happy face, tried to make everyone feel better. I just felt hollow… Like I was just a machine doing mindless entertainment for everyone else and…’ Jack trailed off with a sigh, rubbing at his neck. ‘I’ve felt... dead, ever since.’

Dr. Anderson had been quiet through the whole spillage, and his smile was now replaced by a solemn look.

‘And you never spoke to anyone about all of this?’ he asked, and Jack shook his head.

‘No, never. I thought it better to just shoulder it and carry on. I thought it’d go away eventually but.. yeah..’

Anderson sighed, but it wasn’t one of annoyance or frustration. Somehow, Jack could tell.

‘You’ve had an awful lot to carry by yourself, Jack. The most important thing you can do is reach out to people. No person alive can drag around such a heavy burden alone. It’s good that you’re here.’

Maybe, maybe not. It would’ve been quicker and easier to die, but apparently that wasn’t an option anymore. Not as long as he was in here. Right now, all he could do was listen to Dr. Anderson tell him how to deal with living.

**

Almost 40 minutes later, Jack stepped out of Dr. Anderson’s office with a lot of things on his mind. Not nearly enough had been said to fix anything – Jack was still as hollow and empty as always – but it didn’t feel as imposing as it’d done before. Maybe there was a chance to fill up the hole in him. A slim one, but a chance nevertheless.

As he walked along the hall, he realized he hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. His appetite was better today, and he could actually feel his stomach rumble and groan for food. Giving in to his body’s cravings, he steered his steps towards the dining hall, hoping that maybe Bunny, Nicholas and Jamie were there to sit with. Or Pitch, although he wasn’t the best sort of company, but it was better than nothing.

But to Jack’s everlasting dread, the moment he stepped into the dining hall he saw his trio of almost-friends leave through the door opposite of his. Frozen to the spot, it felt as his entire world crumbled. So he had to sit alone at breakfast, without any friends. He wasn’t sure why this felt like such a blow, but it hurt. Even if they obviously didn’t know he was there to see them leave, and they couldn’t possibly know he was coming, it hurt.

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, Jack went over to the serving table to get a plate. His appetite was gone now, but he’d at least try to force something down to get through the day. As he sat down at an empty table he could feel his mood sinking through the floor, and silently wished he could physically sink along with it.

But then someone sat down opposite him. Looking up, Jack saw a pale, gaunt face with sunken-in golden eyes. It was Pitch.

‘What are you doing here?’ he said, confused and amazed all at once.

‘You looked so pathetic sitting here all alone, so I decided to join you,’ came Pitch’s cold reply, but it made Jack feel just a little bit warmer.

‘I thought you disliked me,’ he said, straightening up a bit as his bad mood was replaced by curiosity about the person in front of him and the instinctive urge to be a snarky little brat.

‘And I do, which would put us on speaking terms, at the very least.’

Jack was puzzled by this at first, but then slowly began to realize that dislike in Pitch’s book would probably be equivalent to tolerate. If that was the case, then he must hate everyone else with a burning passion. Jack would’ve been flattered if he didn’t realize it probably was because he was too fresh to be hated, yet. Maybe, eventually, it’d come to that.

‘And despite this dislike, you choose to be around me,’ Jack said and placed his elbows on the table, feeling a smirk crack up on his face. ‘You’re the weirdest person I know.’

‘The weirdest, if my condition is anything to go by.’

It was strange to have an actual conversation to someone that wasn’t a doctor, especially one that flowed so smoothly. The banter seemed to come naturally to him – it was easier to talk to Pitch than it was to any of the others, even if they were what could be considered friend material.

‘And what is your condition?’ Jack asked, leaning in just a bit closer. His interest was burning by this point. Everything about Pitch was just so different and strange; something he’d never encountered before. His behavior and his mannerisms were just so intriguing. It was magnetizing.

‘None of your business.’

And then the flow was interrupted by the huge, fat dam that is Pitch’s unbreakable walls, coupled with a mouth pulled into a thin line and eyes that could kill a man, if they had weapons. A direct approach was fruitless, so to find out anything about this guy Jack would have to switch tactics. He was determined to get under Pitch’s skin by this point, and once he was set on something he wouldn’t let up.

‘But you’re seeing things, so it has to be something dramatic,’ Jack said, leaning back to give the illusion of space. Pitch’s frown deepened considerably and he began to clench his hands.

‘That so,’ he said, obviously out of patience. ‘Then tell me, Jack. What is your condition? What is so dreadfully wrong in your brain that has you locked in here?’

He hadn’t expected a counter-attack. Or maybe he had, and he’d just taken it off the list of possible outcomes. He had underestimated him.

‘Do not ask somebody’s name before you give your own, Jack,’ Pitch said in a very satisfied tone. It seemed he was very pleased with himself that he managed to put Jack on the spot like that. The only way he could slipper away from this one without making a complete fool out of himself would be to be honest.

Just the thought of admitting, of answering his question, made Jack anxious. To leave himself open and vulnerable before someone – someone he didn’t even know, even. It was either go hard or go home, if he wanted to get anywhere with Pitch. Just lay all the cards on the table and see what happens.

‘I tried to kill myself,’ he said. Pitch just looked at him, expressionless. Jack didn’t know how to take that and got nervous, so he started rambling.  ‘I slit my wrists in the tub and waited to die. But my mom found me and called the ambulance, I suppose. Once I got out of the hospital I was sent here to get fixed.’

The silent that stretched out between them made Jack regret his entire existence, and it left him staring numbly at the table surface. What now? He’d laid himself bare in front of Pitch and now everything stood still.

‘Let me make one thing perfectly clear for you, Jack,’ Pitch said suddenly, and Jack’s eyes snapped up to his. ‘No one is here to ‘get fixed’. No one is miraculously cured here. Whatever made you attempt suicide is going to follow you for the rest of your life. What they do here is teach you how to deal with it.’

Jack chewed his lip, pulling on them with his teeth and even ripping off flakes of skin.  He tasted salt and iron, but it didn’t seem like he was bleeding. Pitch was right. Jack knew very well that no wonder work could be done here; once he was out of here he’d have to make it on his own, and it was up to him not to get into the pit again.

‘How long have you been in here?’ Jack questioned, suddenly looking to Pitch for some sort of hope.

At the question, Pitch’s eyes dulled and a dark line creased his forehead. But he didn’t snap at him, or act defensive at all, like Jack had come to expect.

‘Long enough to know that I am too far gone to learn how to deal with anything.’

Wow, that certainly was uplifting. Except it wasn’t. It was terrible. Terrible in the way that Jack felt a painful stab of empathy for the man. He didn’t know what to say. Saying ‘I’m sorry’ wouldn’t do anything, and it wouldn’t make anything different. And maybe what he said instead was thoughtless, and maybe he shouldn’t have said it. Perhaps he would even come to regret it, later, but at the moment it felt like the right thing to say.

‘Then I’ll teach you,’ Jack said, determined. ‘I’ll teach you how to deal with it.’

Pitch looked stunned. He stared at Jack with wide eyes and a slack jaw as if he’d just grown a second head. Actually, it wouldn’t have been strange if Pitch had actually seen him grow a second head, considering.

Then he burst out laughing. It wasn’t a good laugh, like the one you give when you’re happy. It was hollow and mocking, the kind of laugh you hear from someone who didn’t have any fun left in them. Someone who had nothing. It was a bit frightening, and it was loud. Loud enough to gain the attention of several others in the dining hall.

‘Are you saying that a suicidal teenage boy can accomplish what trained professionals cannot?’ Pitch said once he’d calmed down, pretending to wipe away a tear from his eye. ‘Splendid. Just perfect. I see absolutely no reason to why this wouldn’t work.”

Due to Jack’s immensely stubborn nature, this did not sit well with him. Even if his idea was completely outrageous, he wanted to be taken seriously.

‘What, have you been supported by a suicidal teenage boy before?’ he said and pointed a finger of accusation at him. Pitch smacked his finger away with a sour look.

‘No, and I am not willing to try.’

‘Fine,’ Jack said and crossed his arms. Pitch was just as stubborn as him, if not more. It was a battle between wills going on here, and it was only a matter of time before one gave in to the other, and Jack refused to be the one losing.

Silence filled the air between them, with Pitch staring at his plate of food without touching it, and Jack staring at him with arms folded over his chest. Pitch was so fascinating. Right now he sat so still and rigid he seemed more like a lifelike statue than an actual, living person. But he was hardly even that; he looked more bones than flesh, and with the dark circles like bruises around his eyes he seemed more like a dead man walking.

Pitch didn’t touch his food for five minutes. He just stared at it, no indication that he was going to eat it whatsoever. Jack wondered if he was catatonic, or if he was just lost in his head or something like that. He wasn’t mumbling – _yet_ – but it was slightly creepy even without it. Pitch simply refused to eat.

'Do you ever eat?' he said suddenly, unable to refrain from commenting, and Pitch jerked like he’d been pricked by a needle. He narrowed his eyes at him, a look that warned him to tread carefully. He looked more like a feral creature than he did a man when he did that. Maybe that’s what he really was, underneath the skin.

'Why does it matter?' he hissed, heavily defensive. That basically confirmed Jack’s suspicions about Pitch’s messed up eating habits.

'You’re like… like those girls back at school?'

If it was possible for Pitch to look angrier than he already did, he probably would have now. His reply was a low growl and his fingers clutched the corner of the table, making his otherwise purplish red knuckles turn stark white.

'You’ve got that thing. The eating disorder,' Jack pried. He wanted to know what was going on in his head whenever his eyes got glassy, wanted to know what he was thinking when he started mumbling all crazy like. He’d overheard nurses telling each other to be careful with him, that he had pretty bad anger issues and was very unstable. Most didn’t get that, they said, but Pitch seemed to have drawn the short straw.

'It’s none of your _fucking_ business.'

'It is now, I'm the closest to a friend you have in this place.'

That made him pause. He looked surprised, confused even. Then he tilted his head in a strange childlike manner.

' _Friend?_ ' he scoffed in disbelief, his face scrunching up at the notion. ‘I thought I made it clear that I dislike you.’

'Well, yeah. Like I said; closest to a friend. At least you won’t bother me about my…' He glanced towards his wrist, and Pitch seemed to understand.

‘Then don’t bother me about food, it’s only a fair deal.'

‘Friendships aren’t _deals_ , man.’

‘Then don’t be friends with me.’

**

Jack and Pitch parted ways after their breakfast conversation. When Jack had asked where Pitch was going, he’d just snapped at him with an irritated, ‘If you thought you could follow me around, think again.’ Being left with no choice, and having nothing to do for at least one hour before group, Jack began to wander aimlessly in the faint hope that he’d find something to entertain himself with.

The halls themselves were so mind-numbingly boring that he felt that just by walking alongside the pale, blank walls he was slowly being driven insane. Maybe if he did something crazy like stab someone with a fork, for example, that’d surely be of a considerable entertainment value. People would go nuts, maybe even cops would get involved.

But then again, that would probably write Jack up for an even longer stay at this place, and that was the worst possible outcome. Like hell he’d stay here longer than he had to. But maybe if he did something that couldn’t be traced back to him, then he would get his excitement and he wouldn’t get in trouble for it. Now that sounded a lot better. But what could he do? Something mildly drastic, but not too much; he didn’t want anyone to get hurt, after all…

‘Hey, Jack!’

His head snapped up and he stopped in his tracks. It was Jamie, and Jack noted that he was alone. Nicholas and Bunny were both pretty large guys – Jamie looked tiny by comparison – so they’d be pretty hard to miss coming down the hall. But now they were shining with their absence, and Jamie came up to Jack with no sign of waiting for anyone else to catch up.

‘Hi,’ Jack replied, making an obvious show of looking around. ‘Where are the others?’

Jamie simply shrugged with a disinterested expression. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘What I want to know is where _you’ve_ been. You didn’t show up for breakfast. Why?’

It was almost demanding, the way he asked his question. Maybe it was just because he was worried about him? But really, why would he ask where he’s been when Jamie was the one who left him alone in the room this morning. Obviously he’s just been all alone in a place he doesn’t know with no friends and no future. Well, he’s got half a friend whose also insane and has openly admitted to disliking him. Better than nothing, Jack supposed.

‘I had my first talk with Dr. Anderson,’ Jack said and shoved his hands into his front pockets. He wasn’t allowed jeans, so all he could wear were sweatpants. Apparently to prevent people from hurting themselves on any zippers or the like.

‘Sandy is nice, yeah. How’d it go? Was that why you didn’t join us at breakfast?’ Jamie said, but his tone was off. It sounded like he was impatient and just wanted to get the conversation over with. Which was strange, since he’d been the one to approach Jack in the first place. Maybe he just wanted to get out of the hallway.

‘It was okay, I guess. When I went to eat you guys weren’t there so I sat with Pitch.’

The instant Pitch was mentioned, Jamie made a face that said disapproval all over.

‘You shouldn’t be with him, Jack. He’s not good for you - for anyone,’ he warned. ‘The further away you keep from Pitch the better.’

Jack frowned. He was getting tired of the whole ‘stay away from Pitch’ thing. Sure, he was a bit nuts, but didn’t that just make it more important that you initiated in human interaction with him? Isolation wasn’t good for anyone. Jack knew this very well, himself. Even if it is by choice, and even if you won’t admit it, being alone fucks you up.

‘No offense, Jamie, but I’d rather decide who to spend my time with on my own,’ Jack said and crossed his arms. ‘Even if you don’t like Pitch, it’s not gonna stop me from talking to him.’

Jamie looked angry at first, but just a second later his face evened out into a smile.

‘Sure!’ he said, his voice awkwardly light. ‘But you can hang out with us now, right? Before group starts.’ And like that, he turned and was on his way out of the hall. Jack felt obliged to chase after him, but something kept him rooted to the floor.

‘Jamie,’ he said, and the brunette stopped and looked over his shoulder back at Jack with an open, attentive face. ‘Have you ever been alive?’

It was an odd question, but it was one that had been simmering in the back of Jack’s mouth for a while now – something that contributed to the strange dark mass in his chest. Since way back, Jack had learnt that living and being alive were two completely different things. One was an empty state of existence, and the other was something full and complete.

Jamie simply looked at him, puzzled.

‘Of course I’ve been alive, Jack. Aren’t every one of us alive right now?’

And at that moment, Jack concluded that he and Jamie could never become more than acquaintances. Because Jamie didn’t understand what it was like to be dead in a live shell. But Jack knew, he knew so very well, that Pitch understood perfectly what that was like.

That’s why he wanted to be friends with Pitch; because they were the same. Two lonely, dead people walking among the social and living.

He and Jamie were not the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it is a bit short, I know. But I've been on quite a break from this and it takes a little to get back into writing again. Especially since I'm mostly used to writing Pitch, not Jack. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and look forward to the next one!
> 
> Coming next: Jack makes a friend, steals something, and has a deep conversation with Jamie. And Nicholas also proves to be a huge inspiration to his fellow patients.


	4. Stark white walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay; I was hoping to have this up by the end of last week, but that obviously didn't happen. I'll make up for that with a lengthier chapter than last time around. This is the first chapter that has no Pitch in it, excluding the few mentions. Terrible, I know. But don't fret! There'll be plenty of him in the next chapter.
> 
> Oh, and since I forgot to mention it last time around: You can hit me up at disobedient-fiction @ tumblr

Jack was never really occupied with keeping track of which date it was, or what amount of days had come and gone, or the passage of time in general. Night and day seemed to blur into this one conjoined smudge outside of his consciousness; it didn’t matter what the time was, or what time of the year it was. The last couple of years had gradually become a constant grey; it was always cloudy in Jack’s life, regardless of weather.

So it was a strange surprise when Jack actually knew, clear as crystal, that six days had passed since he was admitted to the psychiatric ward. Nearly an entire week. It hadn’t been too bad. Well, too bad in the sense that Jack didn’t feel like offing himself on the spot. He just felt like shit, overall, but not so much that it was unbearable. He still wasn’t all that convinced that he had any place there at all – that he would do much better six feet under in a wooden box and a black suit. Ok, maybe he was a _little bit_ suicidal, but not nearly as much as he used to.

Apparently, some thought otherwise. He regularly spent time with Nicholas, Bunny and Jamie now, and it would seem they thought he had a place in their little group. Jack really liked Nicholas. He was big and bright and just exhibited so much positivity and optimism that Jack couldn’t possibly think of anything that he’d be in there for. He seemed so happy, so normal. Usually everyone in here would be either all sorts of nuts or possess such a negative outlook on life that their bodies might as well reverse in on themselves.

But Nicholas wasn’t like either of the two.

Bunny was more reserved; he didn’t speak a lot to Jack directly, and certainly not one-on-one. But he didn’t really speak much in general. The only one who was able to really get him talking and engaging himself in conversation was Nicholas, but he had that effect on everyone. Jack still hadn’t been told why Bunny had that large, horrid burn over part of his face, but he figured it was still far, far too early for him to know.

But during the times where Jack wasn’t with his newly acquired friends, having a session with Dr. Anderson, or sleeping, he would simply sit by himself and contemplate his situation. So far he had no idea when he’d be getting out of there, and he felt that with the amount of boredom he had to face every day, he’d be kept in there for a completely case of insanity than the one he was sent there for.

Sometimes he’d look around for Pitch, but he hadn’t been seeing much of him recently. It really was a shame, because Jack found himself enjoying the conversations he had with him, especially since they had officially been declared friends – sort of. He still wasn’t sure if Pitch had agreed to it. But the last couple of days he hadn’t seen him at all, which quite honestly was really disappointing. While the others were nice to talk to, they didn’t quite have that alluring magnetism that Pitch had; that aura that softly and gently urged him closer.

Dr. Anderson kept telling Jack to try and socialize and establish a network of people he can comfortably talk to; isolating himself was one of the worst things he could do to himself, and it would be good for him to just idly chat with people. Such an easy thing to do, what with the lobby being completely vacant of human life. Unless that fly buzzing by the ceiling felt like coming down and conversing with Jack, there was no one to talk to.

But as Jack lazily kicked a pillow on the couch he was sprawled over, he suddenly felt eyes on him. It wasn’t the fly, obviously - he didn’t even know if flies could even focus on anything – but someone else he hadn’t noticed in the room before. Probably because the person in question was standing in the open archway which lead to the corridor, and had apparently just come into the room. Jack recognized them to be a boy around his age, maybe a bit older, from Group. It couldn’t be anyone but him, because he hadn’t seen anyone else with that burning red hair in this place.

He had this awfully bored look on his face; like nothing in the entire world could catch his interest. He was probably here because Group would start in just about ten minutes. Jack was disinterested in him at first, but then was reminded of Dr. Anderson’s inquiry for him to spend more time with the other patients. It was almost like he was forced to go up and talk to the boy, but there was no one there to do that but himself. With a soft sigh at himself, Jack sat up in the couch and looked straight at the boy.

“Hey,” he said, a bit loud since he was at the other end of the room. “Sit down with me.”

The other seemed mildly surprised at his suggestion, and his eyebrows shot up somewhere beneath his auburn fringe. But he miraculously still managed to look bored. Without a word or even a protest, he came over and plomped down on the couch next to Jack.

“Yo,” he said, and made no further inclination that he would speak. Off to a brilliant start.

“I’m Jack,” Jack said, staring at him with cautioned expectation.

“Ashton,” came the reply. With names out of the way, now came the horribly awkward ordeal of finding a subject to talk about. That was especially difficult here, since not many were very sociable. Jack himself was among them, and apparently this Ashton fellow was as well.

“So uh.. You’re waiting for group?” Jack made an attempt.

“Yeah.”

It was fruitless, but at least it wasn’t silence. Jack felt this was a bit more difficult than the other people he’d spoken to so far; because Nicholas was the driving force in the group’s conversations, and Pitch was defiant but at least responsive. The banter with him was fun. This was more like talking to a wall. This guy hadn’t said more than one word per sentence so far. It was getting a bit annoying.

“You don’t talk much do you?” Jack said, putting more of an edge to his voice.

Ashton simply shrugged, and Jack almost felt like screaming out of frustration. Is this guy for real? He had to strongly remind himself that he was in a psych ward, and there were a lot of fucked up people here. One unresponsive patient shouldn’t be that much of a surprise, and really shouldn’t less get to him so easily. Be sympathetic instead.

“I was like that too, but my therapist said I should talk to people more,” Jack said and clasped his fingers between his knees, leaning forward. “It’s pretty difficult so far. It’s easier to be quiet and stay away from people but I suppose he’s right.”

At least Ashton was looking at him now, instead of straight ahead like a dead puppet.

“Talking is bothersome,” he said, and Jack was amazed that he’d uttered three whole words. “Most of the people here are shit. They won’t let me have any fun.”

And there it was; the subject he could latch onto and keep building to. Something they both could talk about and relate to.

“I know right?” Jack said, hardly able to hide his excitement. “I was caught rearranging the lobby’s flowers and a nurse completely flipped her shit at me. Makes you wonder who really the crazy ones here is.”

Ashton only gave a nod, but Jack wouldn’t let that break his spirit. He was determined to crack this guy’s shell, just like he was with Pitch.

“What about you? What won’t they let you do?” He couldn’t get away with less than three words this time, he had to elaborate now. Jack wouldn’t be satisfied until he got at least a six word sentence out of this guy. Ashton stared ahead, glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, and then looked at the clock which hung over the television.

“They took my lighter, so now I can’t smoke.”

Nine words. Success!

“That sucks.”

Then both of them went quiet, sitting side by side in an empty lobby. Jack glanced over at Ashton, who had made himself comfortable on the couch. He only seemed to be looking at the clock by this point, watching the seconds tick by.

“What if I get it back for you?” he said, suddenly. This caught Ashton’s attention the second the words left Jack’s mouth, and he turned to face Jack completely with his previously dull eyes suddenly shining bright.

“You would do that?” he said eagerly.

“Yeah, why not? It’s not like there’s anything else to do here.”

Ashton suddenly grabbed a hold of Jack’s shoulders and smiled at him like it was the best thing that’s happened to him since… ever.

“You’re the man, Jack. It’d be fucking awesome if you got it back.”

Jack could only nod like a dumb sheep, taken aback by Ashton’s sudden enthusiasm. Well, that certainly ensured a future friendship between the two. He’d have to look into getting a hold of that lighter after group, when not a lot of people were around. Maybe during lunch, when everyone was eating.

Suddenly Ashton let go of him and was on his feet, and the sound of voices came from the hallway. Looking at the clock, Jack saw that Group was starting in just four minutes, and the people approaching must be the ones participating. Of course, they had to file in right when Jack had actually gotten Ashton to get engaged in their conversation.

It was when he saw Katherine unlock the door to the group room that Jack decided to get on his feet. He didn’t exactly like Group, because that meant he had to talk about himself in front of a whole bunch of people. If the thought itself made him uncomfortable, actually doing it was even worse.

One by one they took their seats in the usual circle of chairs in the middle of the room. Jack sat down next to Nicholas, who had Bunny next to him. Jack could hardly see him at all, due to Nicholas’ sheer size. Jamie took a seat next to Jack, smiling brightly at him as he sat down. Jack returned the smile, although a bit milder. There was no time to exchange any words, though, because once everyone had settled down, Katherine cleared her throat.

“Good afternoon, everyone!” she said in a bright, warm tone. “I hope you’ve all had a nice lunch and a good night’s sleep. Today we’re going to talk about self-esteem, and building character.”

“Self-esteem is very important for us to live happily and comfortably; when we believe in ourselves we feel that we can accomplish whatever we set our mind to. Without that, a person just withers into themselves and slowly fades away.” Katherine paused, blinking slowly with a nod, as if she was setting her thoughts in order.

“What we want you to do here, is to build up a good, healthy self-image and work up your confidence so that when you get out of here, you can tackle the hardships of life with new energy. It’s very important that you won’t end up here again. Once you’re discharged, you’re out there for life – no looking back.”

Jack shifted his weight in his seat, his mouth tugging sideways into a pondering expression. Self-esteem was not really anything Jack would ever regularly think about. But when it came to his evaluation of self, and how important he felt he was, it didn’t come very high on the scale. He was shut out from the world, for no particular reason, and he knew it would be dumb to put the blame on himself. Of course, he couldn’t help but do just that. The ‘if I hadn’t’s kept fluttering in and out of his conscious thoughts and did little to improve his mental health.

He did feel worthless, he realized. Not deserving to be a part of anything, or receive anything good in the form of… anything at all. Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn’t. But it was true in the sense that it was real, and he felt it more now than ever. He could barely even consider himself human.

“So, who would like to start?” Katherine said, knocking Jack out of his thoughts, and looked around the room expectantly. Right next to Jack, Nicholas cleared his throat and straightened up a little.

“Nicholas! Go right ahead.”

“I think everyone is born with worth – worth they know they have,” he began. “Children do not care what others think of them; because they know that they are good people. Children act selfish and self-important, because they still believe that they truly are important. But as children grow older, people will start saying they are not good enough.”

“You do not do well enough in school, you do not look good enough, you do not have enough friends – it is all told to us through small little things. And while they at first seem small and insignificant, they all gather into one pit. They fill out large part of you and suddenly there is no room for self-esteem, so you have to take it away to make way for all worry and anxiety.”

Nicholas shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe his own words.

“We small humans always compete to be better, because if we are the best, we get the most love and attention – which is good thing. But sometimes good things turn bad on the way, and instead of improving ourselves, we drag down others to make us look better in comparison. That is bad, and evil, but sadly the most common tactic.”

Jack bit his lip at the sudden ball of anxiety that began to crack and tear in his chest. It felt like it would burst open soon and fill his whole body. He didn’t know why he was so worried, all of a sudden. Nicholas was speaking the truth, and maybe Jack felt scared because he could recognize himself in it. He didn’t openly act among those ways, but he would catch himself thinking that way about others; that he was better at something, or in some way.

It made him feel guilty, even if they were just thoughts and didn’t actually hurt anyone.

“And because so many beat us down, we must realize how important it is that we love ourselves. We have to take care of ourselves and make sure we are okay, or we will crumble. I am sure everyone in here has broken in some way or another, and I want to tell all of you, from the bottom of my heart, I believe in you. You can make it because you are good person. You all have the stars in your eyes and the oceans in your hearts. You are important. You matter.”

The stunned, thoughtful silence was broken only by Katherine’s soft clapping as she nodded approval at Nicholas.

“Well spoken, Nicholas. I think I speak for all of us when I say; Thank you.”

 

**

 

When Group was over, Jack retreated away from everyone else, slipping away when people were still engrossed in their respective discussion about today’s topic. Jack was good at being invisible, which was a particularly handy talent when he was going to do something that usually would mean trouble.

But really, how bad could it be? He was only doing a favor for a friend. It just happened to involved stealing something. _Returning_ something, Jack corrected himself. Although he knew that would be rather troublesome, considering the security of this place was pretty tight. He understood that it was for the safety and protection of the patients – a large portion were probably a danger to themselves – but in some instances it could be really annoying.

Like this one, for example, with Jack standing idly by the reception desk, having no idea where to look for repossessed objects. After five minutes of boring, tense just standing there, Jack was just about to give up when something caught his eye, sitting right next to a small potted plant. A matchbox! It was the perfect substitute for Ashton’s lost lighter. At least it was better than coming back empty handed. The nurse sitting at the desk wasn’t paying attention to him, but taking it would still pose a big risk. Even if he snatched it quickly, the rattle of the matches would probably alert her. Jack frowned for a second before he decided to take a chance.

He placed an elbow on the counter with his whole forearm rested against the surface just enough to enclose the matchbox. He could easily just slide it down to him now and grab it with his other hand, but he would still need a diversion.

“Hey,” Jack said, pulling out a smile bright enough to blind a man. The nurse blinked at him, then returned the expression.

“Hello, Jack. Nice to see you. Can I help you with something, dear?” she asked gently, every so subtlety turning over a paper before her that apparently he wasn’t supposed to see.

“Just wanted to see how you were doing,” he said, and he saw her eyes dart down to the paper for a split second. He found it a bit funny, actually, mostly because that wasn’t at all what he was interested in. “You nurses don’t get enough credit for keeping an eye on us looneys.”

She just laughed a little, waving a hand dismissively.

“Oh no, Jack. We’re just doing our job, dear. I like working here,” she said, still keeping a smile on her face. Jack just nodded and grinned.

“Heh, of course. Hearts of gold, and all.”

“Now you’re just being silly!”

“Maybe. Well, talk to you later, nurse.” And now it was time to actually go through with the whole plan. It had to be quick, or he’d lose the opportunity. He stepped back, dragging his forearm down the desk, bringing the matchbox with him, and then straightened up from the desk with the small object secure in his hand. He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned on his heel, walking away from the reception desk, holding his breath the whole way.

He heaved a sigh of relief when he made it to the hall without being stopped, or called back. He’d managed to take it without her noticing anything. She was probably too busy worrying about that paper to think anything of the matchbox, which no longer was there.

Finding Ashton proved to be more of a challenge than he thought it would. It wasn’t as if they could leave this place, so how could it be so difficult to just find a person?

Though, it was pretty hard to navigate through this place, since every corridor pretty much looked exactly like the previous one. The same monotonous, plain white walls in hallway after hallway. The facility had a horseshoe shape, with several corridors going in parallels, and multiple floors for different kinds of patients. Jack wasn’t allowed to leave his floor – no one was – but it was large enough to get lost in for someone who was still new, like him.

It was almost like walking through a prison, with the identical monochrome walls surrounding him at all times. He didn’t recall seeing any other wallpaper than the stark white they lived in. Really, you’d think they would consider using something else to make it more homely, and not so cold and lifeless. Jack almost envied Pitch and his holes in the walls; at least it was something different than just plain nothing.

Anything was better than nothing.

If Jack had believed in fate, or any sort of higher power, he would probably have thought that they had something to do with the fact that Ashton just appeared around the corner, alone, walking towards him. But as it was now, he didn’t, so he could only write it off as a lucky coincidence. Either way, it was good.

“Ashton!” Jack called out and hurried his steps, Ashton himself stopped in his tracks at the sound of his voice with a hesitant look on his face. Jack stopped in front of him, smiling faintly.

“Hey, man. I got you something,” he said and dipped his head down towards his pockets, looking there with his eyes to emphasize. Ashton looked confused at first, but Jack could practically see the moment it clicked with the way his eyes lit up.

“Really?” he said and took a step forward. He hovered there for a moment, pausing to wait for Jack’s reassurance, which came as a nod, before he grabbed his arm and pulled him along down the hall.

“Then I’ve got something to show you; come with me.”

 

**

 

Smoke rose from his mouse and nostrils, and it burnt the inside of his throat. It had a certain taste to it that Jack couldn’t quite put his finger on. He was unsure about the taste and smell of it, but he was all about the way his throat burned and how the smoke moved, first fast and then slowly, as he exhaled. When he was first admitted into the psych ward, he had no idea he’d ever do something like this. He thought he’d just go on with his silent suffering, his mind slowly withering away as doctors tried to hammer life into him over and over again.

But there he was, leaning against a round metal container, smoking with another patient of this godforsaken place. His new friend had lead him to a crevice in the corner of one of the cleaning cupboards, and they’d squeezed through it to find a narrow passage inside the wall. After a bit of walking, they came to some sort of boiler room. They were definitely not supposed to be there, but Ashton had said he used to come here to smoke all the time, before they found and confiscated his lighter.

It was relaxing, in a way. Standing here with Ashton, both of them silent, gave him some sense of temporary inner peace. At least Jack could feel that with Ashton he didn’t have to say anything. They could just quietly enjoy the company of someone else without necessarily having to have something to talk about. Just for the moment, Jack could briefly taste what being alive was like. It was only a taste, one tiny little glimmer, but it was enough.

Jack was almost at the filter, by now, and he didn’t feel it would be appropriate to ask for another one.

“I should be getting back,” he said quietly, not really wanting to break the peaceful silence they had going. “I think it’s getting late.” It wasn’t like he had a watch on him, but he felt they had been there for quite some time.

“I’ll stay here for a while longer,” Ashton replied without looking at him. His eyes seemed fixed on the wall opposite of him. Jack frowned at him for a moment, then grabbed the matchbox out of his pocket, almost having forgotten about it since they lit their cigarettes.

“Here, Ash,” he said, and gave Ashton a moment to turn his head to face him before tossing it to him. He grabbed it with one hand, and then proceeded to stare at it like it was a gift from the heavens. “I don’t exactly have any use for it, so… Yeah.”

“Mm,” Ash replied, and it didn’t seem like he was paying attention to Jack anymore.

“I’ll be heading back now. Bye, Ash.”

“Bye.”

Jack rather ungracefully slipped behind one of the boilers and back to the small passage behind the wall. It was only a short walk back to the crevice in the cupboard, so Jack didn’t have to linger on how creepy it was being there. He could at least be grateful he didn’t have claustrophobia among his many other issues. He stumbled out into the cupboard, almost tripping over a broom, but he managed to catch himself. With a light push to make the door slightly ajar, Jack peered out into the hallway to make sure it was empty before dusting himself off and stepping out.

Getting back to his and Jamie’s room was uneventful, no one seemed to take any interest in Jack, and so he arrived at their door without confrontation.

He flopped down on his bed with a grunt and his face pressed into his pillow. His arm lay haphazardly strewn by his sides and one leg was hanging off the side of the bed. Even if he’d spent most of the day doing basically nothing, he always felt exhausted at the end of the day. Dr. Anderson had said it was a symptom of his depression, and he supposed that was true. He was tired of moving, tired of life, tired of everything.

Fatigue was just the start of it, really, but Jack surely did not want to get into those particular thoughts right before bed. He learnt the hard way that it was a bad idea to dwell on shit at night, because that’s when it gets to you the worst. He’d rather not have a repeat of the first night, with the bugs crawling all over him…

He shuddered violently and sat up. He should just get ready for bed and try to sleep.

He was in the middle of pulling off his sweater when the door opened, and a nurse peered in right before Jamie entered.

“Checking,” the nurse called, almost mechanically, and then closed the door again. Jamie stood in the middle of the room watching the door for a moment before sitting down on his bed.

“Hey, Jack. Haven’t seen you since group. Where’ve you been?” he asked as he began to pull off his socks.

“Around,” Jack replied as he did the same. “I spent some time with Ashton.”

Jamie’s eyebrows twitched at that, but otherwise he remained unphased.

“Oh,” was all he said.

They changed into their respective sleepwear in the most perfect definition of awkward silence Jack had ever experienced. It was so much different from the peaceful quiet he’d had with Ash, he didn’t know how to handle it.

Once both of them were lying in their beds, Jack bit his lip as he struggled to find words. He was exhausted, but at the same time he was wide awake, and he felt it necessary to hold at least some sort of brief conversation with Jamie before they called it a night. He had to speak to people. He had to open up. Dr. Anderson had told him to.

“Did you ever think you’d end up in a place like this?” Jack wondered out loud, glancing over at where Jamie lay. For a moment, he didn’t reply, and Jack began to feel a bit anxious. Maybe he just wanted to sleep?

“I guess, sort of,” Jamie answered. “I’m sort of glad, though. At least it’s not home.”

Jack felt his eyebrows furrow at that.

“How so?” he asked, but was weary of the answer.

“Well…” Jamie sounded hesitant, like it was something he’d rather not talk about. “It was pretty rough…” Jack’s dread only grew stronger at his words, and the way his voice suddenly became so soft – small.

“If I did something wrong, or disobeyed, I’d get punished pretty strictly. But it was just to keep me in line. My parents just didn’t want me to get into trouble,” he said, and he sounded hectic. “Like, yeah it hurt and all… But it wasn’t that bad. I mean, all parents discipline their kids, right?”

Jack’s mouth felt dry.

“The one thing I hated about it was just how little I had control of. I couldn’t choose for myself or anyone else, but here there’s no one that will hit me and yell at me when I tell someone to get something for me. So it’s nicer here. I have friends here.”

Jamie suddenly turned his head to face Jack, and he gave such a sad, mournful smile that Jack felt a painful lump form in his chest.

“Like you, Jack. You’re a good friend; one I’d want to keep forever.”

“Thanks…” Jack murmured. He didn’t even know what to say, after what Jamie revealed about himself. He was abused as a child… And here Jack was, feeling like death for no reason at all. He hadn’t suffered any traumatic, terrible experience, or have a fucked up childhood. He was just a regular kid, and he tried to kill himself. It made him feel even more pathetic.

His problems were insignificant by comparison.

“Goodnight, Jamie,” he said quietly. He had to shut his brain off before it went too far. Before he lost what little progress he’d made in the past couple of days. Before he exposed himself to nightmares and shadow men and bugs.

“Goodnight, Jack.”

**

Jack was sleeping so peacefully in his bed. Fortunately, no nightmares haunted him, nor any dreams. It was just the comfortable, dark safety of nothing. Maybe he would’ve felt well-rested, when he’d woken up. Maybe he would’ve been ready to tackle the day when he woke up.

Maybe he would have, if he hadn’t been jerked awake by the shrill, piercing shriek of a loud bell which rang through the entire building.

But the alarm that shattered Jack’s eardrums wasn’t the only thing contributing to this dreadful wake-up call; very faintly, he could smell smoke, like something was burning.With a jolt, Jack came to quick realization.

 

The building was on fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a bomb Jamie dropped there, wasn't it? I'm not very happy with the ending there, but what can you do. I'm almost never satisfied with the endings, apparently.
> 
> In the next chapter: We see a whole lot more of Pitch, and the culprit behind the fire is revealed. But... is everything alright with Bunny?


End file.
